


Amethyst Brand

by AshArkon



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Awakening Spoilers, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshArkon/pseuds/AshArkon
Summary: Owain, legendary hero, leader of the justice cabal, and time traveler, has not seen his sister Morgan for years. On his search for her, he finds himself caught up in the political dealings of Fodlan. At Garreg Mach Monastery, he quickly becomes tangled in the millennia-old plots enveloping the continent. It seems Morgan will have to wait. He has another land to save.Good thing he's done this before.





	1. Fate's Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain arrives in Fodlan searching for his sister Morgan. On his way to the legendary Monastery, he happens upon young fighters in need, only to discover their incredible importance.

It had been years since he had seen Morgan. His absentminded and far-too-smart sister had decided to go on one of her walkabouts, sailing, flying, or possibly even teleporting to the various continents dotting the seas. The problem was that _this time_ she didn’t want to be found, and she had only ever improved at Hide-and-Seek.

And so Owain found himself standing on the docks of a foreign land, trying his damndest not to get jostled around too much and failing miserably. Derdriu was the name of the city, sometimes called the Aquatic Capital. It was the Keystone of the Leicester Alliance, and the seat of house von Riegan.

At least, if the captain of the boat he took over is to be believed. Owain had never been to Fodlan or the surrounding region before, but figured it was more likely Morgan traveled here instead of taking the long haul to Tellius.

Now, however, Owain got to partake in one of his favorite pastimes; the only good thing to ever come from Morgan’s wanderlust.

Sightseeing.

Derdriu was indeed a beautiful city, with small streams, creeks, and brooks breaking up the clean streets and whitewashed buildings. Even the castle of the local lords seemed more akin to a Cathedral or library than a defensive structure. Though the imposing walls separating the city’s districts certainly picked up any slack the castle may have left.

As the sun fell low in the sky and the clouds became a beautiful smattering of pink, orange, and yellow, Owain found a small inn, the Wyvern’s Antler. He ate some of the local cuisine, a fried pheasant sandwich, payed for his room, and planned his last course of action. While his sister was easily the better battle strategist of the two, Owain shone when it came to long term planning. That and his skill with Thunder magic was just about all he had inherited from their father.

Shaking the unpleasant thoughts from his head, he plotted a course to the Garreg Mach Monastery, a Cathedral that controlled the heart of Fodlan’s religion, and one of the few places he was positive his sister would visit had she come here. The course was fairly easy, even taking him into the Holy Kingdom to the north. There is where he would find a new sword forged in the Fodlan style. He had Missiletainn on him, as always, but nothing was preventing him from being prepared.

With the route settled, he drifted into dreams.

\---

It was early morning when Owain heard the sounds of battle. He was just awakening to prepare for the last leg of his journey, but helping those in need was more important at the moment.

He rushed to a large log cabin on the outskirts of town, most likely a hunting lodge or knight’s barracks. It was there where he saw the combatants: A small horde of bandits fighting against some teenagers with a more elderly cavalier hanging back. He knew learning to fight on ones own was important, but a little more help could never hurt in these situations.

He saw his opening as one of the vagabonds lifted his axe to attack one of the teens - a red-clad girl with white hair. With inhuman speed only swordmasters with years of expertise could match, he cut each of the bandit’s limbs off. First his axe arm, then the opposing leg, before evening him out and finally liberating the head. The Yellow swordsman chided himself for his own brutality, remembering that he didn’t need to worry about _this_ enemy getting back up.

The red girl turned around at the gust of wind and sound of sword rending flesh. She noticed the newcomer to the fight and the efficiency of his kill, and nodded in his direction.

“Thanks for that,” she said.

Owain prepared his theatrical response, ready as always to play the fool, when he saw one more bandit, obviously the leader by how large his axe and how ugly his face was. He pointed, deciding to allow the girl to deal with this one, “Behind you!”

The girl spun around and drew the dagger on her belt. She dropped the axe at her feet, too heavy to react in time. Just as it seemed he would need to step in, the other girl, one with dark blue-green hair, stepped in the way and expertly parried his axe swing, sending the leader himself flying. But there was something more. Owain, well attuned to some of the more obscure magics, knew exactly what divine magic felt like when cast so close to him. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but the green girl just cast a spell that had some divine significance. It could be as simple as a minor healing spell, but could also be something more.

Owain’s time here just became a little bit more interesting.

The remaining bandits managed to scurry off just as a group of armored soldiers entered the area. A man in white carrying a heavy axe shouted loudly, his deep voice resonating across the forest. The Cavalier approached Owain and the four others, sighing loudly.

“Alois. Of course,” he grumbled. Owain was just about to introduce himself when, for the second time that night, he was interrupted by a large man with an axe.

“Students! You are sa- CAPTAIN JERALT!? It’s been far too long!!!” Even when just a few meters away, the man, Alois, spoke with the same tremendous volume he had from afar.

“Alois. Just as loud as ever. What are you doing here?”

“Captain! I was just coming here to escort these students to the Monastery. But it seems you’ve taken care of those dastards! You simply must join me back!” He then turned to Owain and the green girl. “Ah! Are you two the Captain’s kids?”

“I’m a bandit,” Green said with a completely straight face. No emotion could be heard in her voice, but given what was said, there was clearly something there.

“Bahaha! You are the captain are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?” He took a second to finish his giggling before finally turning to Owain. Time to turn his persona on.

With a great flourish, sliding into one of his signature poses, he began the theatrics he had kept up since he was a child, “I am the blade in the desert! The thunder on a cloudless day! I am Owain, fearless leader of the Justice Cabal!”

A pregnant pause held the group still, before Yellow clapped, “Encore.”

“No, Alois. That one is not mine, just someone who arrived and helped us. Speaking of, what are you doing here, kid?”

“Oh, uh, I was going to travel to the Monastery. I am looking for someone, and I hoped to ask around for her.”

“That’s all well and good, but why did you get involved with _this_ battle?”

“I heard struggling. And what is a man of justice, such as myself, supposed to do when he hears brigands waylaying innocents?”

“Sure, whatever,” Jeralt turned back to Alois as the four others began chatting amongst themselves, eventually turning to Owain himself.

Red started, “I must thank you dearly. My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” She gave a slight bow, and Owain noticed that her, Blue, and Yellow were all in the same uniform, while Green was not. “Truly. Were it not for you, I would likely be dead right now.”

“I, too, thank you. It would do no good for El- er Edelgard to be injured upon our arrival. Though I must ask where you are from. I am afraid i have never head someone with your accent before.” Blue spoke in the measured manner of a young noble who far preferred fighting to arbitrating. Unsurprisingly, he reminded Owain of Lucina.

“Oh, _your highness_, don’t you think it is inappropriate to ask this fine man about his origin without even giving your name? Seems like all those years living in a castle didn’t do anything for your manners, eh?” Yellow ribbed Blue, who promptly blushed and gave a stammer.

“Oh, of course. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. The _child_ beside me happens to be Claude von Riegan.” (“Hiya”)

Owain took it all in and noted to do some research later. For now, he had to give them a show, “I am Owain Dark, from a far away land across the seas.”

Yellow, now known as Claude, chimed in, “Yeah, but where, precisely. There’s a lot of places far away across the seas.”

Seeing he wouldn’t get out of telling them something, Owain acquiesced, “Er- I was born in Ylisse, if you’ve heard of it.”

By the nod of their heads, none of them had. That was. . . probably good. The less specific knowledge they knew, the better for him.

The three students then turned and interrogated Green, whose name was revealed as Byleth. They asked about her father, her homeland, and even which country she wanted to join. The trio turned out to be the heirs to the three countries, though it seemed odd to Owain that Dimitri was a prince instead of a king, even though, according to talk he overheard in the kingdom, his father had died 4 years ago.

As the three left to talk to the Knights of Seiros, Byleth stayed behind, seemingly lost in thought, before another small pulse of divine magic emanated from her. Eventually, the entire group made their way towards the monastery. As they entered the grounds, a green-haired woman watched over them entering.

Perhaps Morgan could wait a little longer. Something interesting was about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This came out of my love of Owain. Him appearing in Fates only made it even more obvious that he, above probably all other characters in this series, was the one made for crossovers. Basically, this is Owain after Awakening and Fates: Revelation. He was brought up to max level in both, so he is extremely competent in combat, and given the "Odin's Grimoire" weapon in Fates, he has invented a few spells. That will come up later.
> 
> This is my first story posted. I was typing to make sure I had something of a buffer, and before I knew it I had 9 chapters written. So, I figure that it is time I share this story. Since this is my first time doing this, if I miss an obvious tag, tell me in some way. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed.


	2. Welcome to the Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain gets a tour of the Monastery, and the Black Eagles are suspicious of the newcomer.

Owain found himself, Jeralt, and Byleth in the Archbishop’s Audience chamber. Jeralt was grumbling about meeting with her and being back at the Monastery. Owain had gathered that Jeralt used to be the Captain of the Knights of Seiros. Though, gathered was maybe too strong a word. Alois was anything but subtle in explaining the past to Byleth and the students.

What he didn’t know was why the man left the order and the church. It takes a certain kind of person to become the leader of an order of holy knights, and that kind of man didn’t often become so. . . faithless.

The Archbishop walked in with mastered grace, perfect posture, and a slight smile. Following behind her was a man who seemed angry to be there. She briefly thanked the trio for assisting the students, before she turned to address Owain.

“Ah, the brave swordsman. I heard that you rushed to defend those who you didn’t even know, with no expectation of reward. I truly thank you for your actions this morning. Alois has told me that you are looking for someone. At some point over the next couple days, Seteth here will find you and attempt to assist your search. In the meantime, perhaps you can assist in the teaching of the students.”

Wearing his perfect mask of a fool, Owain smiled broadly. Internally, however, he was heavily conflicted. The person in front of him clearly was more than she seemed, and he suspected that Seteth was no different. The swordsman had been around many different kinds of people, from Manakete to Laguz, and multiple different forms of each. This lady was clearly not entirely human, and Owain would bet an entire bullion that her ears were pointed. It was these thoughts that permeated Owain’s mind as he left the audience chamber. He passed the odd pair of adults waiting outside the audience chamber and made his way down the stairs.

One of the things he noticed through his travels on this continent was the rarity of vibrant hair colors. Brown and blonde was exceedingly common, with only those on the eastern edge of the continent commonly having the colors he was used to seeing. The exception was purple, crowning many nobles and commoners in the southern territories.

All of this was to say that Owain’s own snow white hair stood out like a sore thumb, only compounded by his accent and clothing. His presence drew eyes like moths to a flame, and quickly a number of uniformed students saw him walking across the cobblestones, and a few even diverted to meed up with him.

“Hello. You must be Owain from Ylisse. I have come to thank you for saving lady Edelgard.” The boy looked to be an almost comically typical vampire. Black hair, pale skin, yellow eyes, and he exuded an aura of intrigue. A magic user, if his thin arms were anything to go by.

“Yes. You and seemingly everyone else here. It was but a single man, no great feat of strength.”

“Still, it makes a difference to us. I am Hubert von Vestra. Next to me are Ferdinand von Aegir (“Greetings!”) and Petra Macneary (“Hello”). You seem to be looking for something. Perhaps we could lead you?”

Owain sighed. Half of him wanted to wander and get his bearing, while the other half wanted to swing his sword until he couldn’t see straight. He gave in, “If you wouldn’t mind. I am seeking the training grounds.”

“Of course! I will be leading the way to there,” Petra spoke out, “And if you are liking, I can also be lea- er, I can lead you around the rest of the grounds. A Two-Or.” She was beaming with pride at the end, and Owain accepted, grateful for the assistance. He was supposedly going to be allowed to stay in a student dorm, and it would be prudent to know where the important areas are.

The four left, and Owain quickly realized that he was already walking towards the training grounds without even knowing it. A man with extremely pale blonde hair stood alone in the middle of the arena, hacking viciously at a dummy. After that, he was shown the ground floor of the dorms, and then the stairs to the rest right next to the greenhouse.

They showed him the dining hall, the market place, the entrance hall, the reception hall, the stables and knights’ hall (it seems these people didn’t know how to name something without calling it a “hall”), and the empty market place before finally returning to the Officer’s Academy.

The entire time, Petra introduced him to the area they were in and their utilitarian functions, while Ferdinand gave history and supporting information, though he seemed to be wary of Owain altogether. Hubert remained quiet, and was clearly analyzing Owain in a manner that could be called subtle if one was particularly generous. 

As the students strode away to the Black Eagles classroom, Owain saw Byleth walking around, exploring for herself, before she confronted Dimitri. Claude was spoken to shortly after, and then the girl made her way for the stairs.

“Hail, noble mercenary! What great deed are you planning towards today?”

“Hm, oh. Hello. . . Owain, was it? Rhea has made me a new professor of the officer’s academy, and wanted me to speak to the house leaders so I can determine which house I will teach. What were you doing?”

“I was finishing surveying the area for terrible traps and other hidden perils. Perhaps a fair maiden such as yourself would be interested in my findings?”

While Byleth was seemingly always void of emotion, Owain would swear he saw a ghost of a smile on her face. Her response didn’t give anything away, however, “I need to get back to Lady Rhea, and after that I will train and then eat. Perhaps tomorrow you can give me your. . . report.”

“Alas, the lady is in high demand. A meeting at noon then? To sate the appetite of both your stomach and your mind.”

“That should be doable. Until then.”

\---

With only an hour of sunlight left, Owain decided to explore the classrooms on his way to the dining hall. A number of students stared and whispered as he passed. He decided to first go into the Red classroom, guessing that it was the class Edelgard and the others belonged to. 8 students were gathered in the room, including the four he had already met. He was soon noticed by Edelgard.

“Oh, Hello. Are you looking for something?”

“Not particularly, princess, I just wanted to explore. There weren’t any grand academies in my homeland, so I need to learn how things are done.”

The students looked at him and each other, wondering who should speak first to the strange foreigner. The moment of silence was broken by a short, scrappy looking kid with short blue hair, “Are you our new professor?”

That threw the swordsman for a loop, “Erm, no? Unless I missed something in my meeting with the archbishop?  _ Am I  _ your professor?”

A behatted girl chimed in just as he was about to ramble into mutterings, “We don’t know, but we haven’t been assigned any professor as of yet, and only wanted to ask if that was your reason for arriving. Would. . . you mind if we asked you some questions? It’s not often you get to talk to someone from a whole other continent. At least not one who isn’t trying to kill you.” She looked at him like he was going to attack them on the spot. Indeed, most of the students kept him at more than arm’s reach, and looked ready to attack immediately.

“Uh, sure. Anyone want to go first?”

“Yes! I am- er, was- wondering at how you are so experienced at speaking in the Fodlan Language. Brigid is much closer, but I am still learning, yet you seem to have mastery over the speaking de-spite being from a much away land.”

“Oh, that one is easy, let’s see,” He ran through a few different ways of wording it. He needed to make the story sound just a bit too unreasonable without being an outright lie. After a moment, he started.

“Me and my companions, accomplished champions of justice, were contacted by a desperate king in search of his daughter. We, of course, accepted this perilous quest, venturing to lands of legend and myth. However, there was an issue; we could not speak in such ancient tongues. But to every illness there is a panacea. And so the King, grateful to us, cast a spell to allow us to understand and speak each language we should encounter. I believe he meant to remove the spell from us at some point, but upon returning his daughter to his palace, nought but silence wandered those halls.”

Some of them were enraptured by his short story, while most seemed to be picking apart each word, still wary of him. He didn’t care, even the best lie detectors wouldn’t be able to correctly interpret what he meant, especially since it had happened so long ago and so far away.

The next student, Hubert, rose his hand, “What are the extent of your abilities? It would not do to have a stranger from a strange land without understanding the extent of his magic.”

“Ah, but now where would be the fun in that? Isn’t the mystery of a far-flung swordsman so much more intriguing?”

But the boy was not impressed, and so Owain soon gave in with a chuckle.

“I am a swordsman with some access to magic. Though, the type of magic I use is very different from yours. We use staves and tomes, while it seems the people here use magic without those implements. If I were to br-”

“Hmm. That’s odd. I read somewhere that some ancient mages used books, but I’ve never seen it done before,” a green-haired boy with half-lidded eyes responded, “Could you show us?”

“I- suppose so. Now where is it?” He patted himself over, searching for the smaller tome he and Morgan created when he took the sword back up. He found it sandwiched between two layers of fabric, resting where his left hand could retrieve it in an instant. “Here. I have a number of spells in this tome, but I think this one will do best.” He repeated the short incantation and suddenly the class gasped as he held a spectral greatsword in his hand. Composed of dark magic, the spell he created in Nohr was one of the few keepsakes he traveled with constantly.

The reaction was immediate. Ferdinand drew his spear, the blue boy his axe, and Hubert conjured a magic circle. The rest of the group backed behind them and Edelgard. When he didn’t attack, it was the girl with the hat who spoke up. “That spell is incredible. How did you do that?”

“Yes, what an amazing young man. I didn’t know we had a ninth student, but if you are this skilled, I cannot object.”

The class focussed their attention to the new entrant, a woman in some mixture of mage’s and dancer’s clothes. She moved similar to Camilla and Charlotte, as if she was consciously trying to attract someone to her. Thinking back, he had seen her as he left the Archbishop’s audience chamber.

“No, I was simply talking to these students,” Owain dismissed his sword and gave a small bow, “I am Owain, and I will be taking my leave. I hear the Dining Hall is serving some fish meal today. . .”

“Oh, well in that case we will follow behind you. I am Manuela Casagranda, and I will be your professor for this year. Speaking of, it’s good to see you again, Dorothea.” Only the first sentence was directed to Owain, the other two to the class. Edelgard had a mostly-concealed hurt look, as if she was expecting something else.

Perhaps she had wished for Byleth? It was common for children to idolize any hero that saved them. He knew that Elise had a crush on him after defeating some assassins sent for her, and his own mother was attracted to his father because of their time with each other. Even Morgan admitted to liking Inigo after he fended off some risen, which was later reciprocated when the reverse happened.

Whatever the case, everyone in the room was hungry, and dinner was about to be served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Owain is going to learn everyone's name next chapter. Until that happens, however, he is going to describe them. Also, am I the only one who thinks that the first day of the Three Houses is super long? Fight Bandits, become a professor, meet the student, pick your house, its a lot to do in a single day.


	3. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meal at Garreg Mach (If only Owain had the chance to eat it).

As the class and Owain left, they saw the other two classes leaving as well. The Blue classroom seemed to be taught by an elderly man in fine dress clothing, likely a mage if the layers of robes were anything to go by. Byleth, further down, led the rowdy Yellow class, her face stone among the chaos of her students. As the classes filed in, everyone was given a meal for the night, each asking for whatever their favorite was. The classes then divided and ate separately, which seemed odd to Owain. This was the perfect time to get the future leaders and generals of the continent to become close companions, possibly preventing a war before it started. He looked for the professors and spotted that at least they seemed to be together.

“Hello professors. I couldn’t help but notice that a great opportunity is about to be squandered if none of your students speak outside of their classes. Perhaps something can be done?”

The elder teachers looked between each other, puzzled and parsing, while Byleth nodded and stood up from her chair. Delivering a command to everyone within the dining hall with complete certainty, she said, “Everyone, pick someone from each of the other two houses and eat with them. No exceptions.” She sat back down and looked expectantly at her colleagues, before turning around and watching the students get into groups.

Two pompous-looking nobles, one of them Ferdinand, migrated towards each other and sat down in front of a redheaded man, who was clearly displeased that the blonde girl he was speaking to had promptly left to join Petra and a girl with pink twintails. Claude grabbed Hubert and the incredibly tall student with features similar to those of Aversa, pulling them away from the sides of their respective lieges. Edelgard was then approached by another white-haired girl, and then one with red hair. A very tired-looking blue haired girl found herself sitting next to Dimitri and the short, scrappy looking black eagle boy, who left behind a sleepy friend with a kind-looing Lion and a Deer wearing glasses. Dorothea, the girl with the hat, found herself with two other girls, one with an archer’s glove still on and one with a shawl around her shoulders. The last group of students was a very odd mix; the loud, broad boy dominated the conversation with the sour-faced swordsman and the terrified Eagle.

Owain was about to sit down across from Byleth when he caught the group Edelgard was in waved him over, the red haired girl most excitedly. He approached them and sat down at the seat across from Edelgard.

“So, Edie here tells us that you cast a spell to make a magic sword?! That’s so cool! Do you think you can teach me?” The energetic girl, clearly far more enthused by the situation than the other two, practically bounced in her seat. She hadn’t even touched her food, some toxically sweet medley of fruits. Funnily enough, the other young mage seemed to have the same thing, and even had some honey drizzled on top of it. 

“E-Edie?” The princess choked out, trying to keep herself from choking on her own food, a plate piled high with grilled fish.

“Oh, do you not like it? I give all of my friends nicknames. You can call me Annie if you want!” Annie replied, still waiting expectantly for Owain’s reply. He was still shocked that anyone who wasn’t Byleth or one of the young royals wanted to talk to him.

“Annette, don’t pester him. If he wants to keep his secrets then we can’t do anything about it,” The yet unnamed girl said before adding in, “But, if you don’t mind. . .” And looked at him with contained eagerness.

“It’s just that no one has called me Edie is a long time. Oh, and I am sorry for this, Owain, but they were too excited at the prospect. In truth, I am also curious, as I have long had an interest in the magical arts.”

“I. . . suppose? I have not taught anyone how to cast spells in a very long time, but since I will be staying here for at least a few months, I suppose there is no harm in passing on this knowledge. When are you able to attend lessons?”

The two mages giddily bounced in their seats before the three girls started making small talk with each other. Turns out Annette was both a skilled mage and axe wielder, hence why she approached Edelgard, and the third girl, Lysithea, was a prodigy with Dark Magic from the Alliance. Throughout the conversation, both Lysithea and Edelgard seemed to be inspecting each other and Owain. It took him a few minutes to realize why; the three all have white hair. 

Back in Ylisse, white hair was a telltale sign of Plegian heritage. Even Walhart had Plegian blood in him, as his mother escaped from the desert nation to avoid being sacrificed by the Grimleal. When he was younger, Owain had to deal with the prejudice of being easily identified as Plegian, especially in a world where Grima reigned supreme. In other countries he noticed that the color of hair was far more accepted, but many people in Fodlan looked at him strangely because it. Now to see others with the same coloration, nobles, no less, it only created more questions without answers. Hopefully he could corner the two of them after teaching the kids about the spells.

He walked back to join the teachers when Claude grabbed him and pulled him to his side. After talking to them for a short while, he got up once more.

And was promptly requested by Petra.

Similar things happened throughout the meal. One student would request him out of a group, he would make some small talk, then he would get summoned by another table. Repeat for an entire meal and you got Owain’s night.

He eventually made his way up the stairs to the second floor of student rooms. His dorm was at the very end of the hall, right above Byleth’s, it seemed. He fell asleep quickly, processing all that had happened on that very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my shortest chapter. I aim for at least 1K words per chapter, and usually I have no issue hitting that. This is the odd one out, just 1036 words. Part of that is because i didn't want to include this in the chapter before or after for length reasons, but even more importantly is that it didn't fit thematically with either of them. Chapter 1 was everything leading up to the monastery, 2 was the introduction to it, and chapter 4 will. . . be released Friday. So this chapter is kinda stuck in the middle of an awkward transition period. Still, i am glad at how it turned out.
> 
> The groups were:  
Ferdinand, Lorenz, and Sylvain  
Petra, Hilda, and Ingrid  
Hubert, Claude, and Dedue  
Edelgard, Lysithea, and Annette  
Caspar, Marianne, and Dimitri  
Linhardt, Ignatz, and Ashe  
Dorothea, Leonie, and Mercedes  
Bernadetta, Raphael, and Felix


	4. Utarefson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first few weeks pass by as Owain settles into a rhythm. But one of Byleth's students is injured, and the wanderer is the only healer around.

While his first day at Garreg Mach was a whirlwind, almost a month went by without incident. To stave off boredom, Owain took up a small number of jobs.

His second day was spent showing Byleth around the grounds as promised. The marketplace was slowly becoming busier and busier as different merchants set up shop and traded with each other. It looked like the stalls were overflowing with merchandise, enough to supply an army. Sharing this though, Byleth told him that it made sense; half the residents were part of an army and the other half was learning how to lead one.

Each day after, while Manuela was teaching, Owain became an emergency healer, after Flayn and Rhea. He had never been overly skilled at healing magic, but was still far beyond the level of the many knights and researchers who journeyed to the monastery, and most of the time a simple spell could suffice, especially when Seteth didn’t want his sister unattended.

Beyond that, he often met with Jeritza and trained against him. The pale Gerome clone was strong and quick, but seemed overly distant. Owain had been working on him, trying to get him to open up, but all he had managed to pry into was some sort of connection to Mercedes, most likely familial. Because of this relationship, Owain also was around to instruct some of the Knights of Seiros. Given his long career of fighting in many different ways, he was more than proficient in almost every weapon. Axes were the only kind he hadn’t used extensively, but training with Inigo and Princess Camilla made up for it.

After classes, however, was when things really started for Owain. Hanneman had wanted to examine Owain for any possible Crest he may have, though he expertly avoided his experiments, not yet wanting to reveal his secrets. Some of the students approached Owain with questions, knowing that he would give them honest answers (or at least they fully believed he was honest). He even met Seteth’s younger sister, Flayn, though she did blatantly tell him that Seteth told her to stay away from him. He laughed and said that the assistant was merely looking out for his sister, and that he would act the same for Morgan. She seemed happy to hear that.

Other than that, he often had dinner alone, though was sometimes approached by someone from the class, and was quickly finding himself learning a little more about each student. Things like Bernadetta's fear of making friends, Dedue's skill at both gardening and cooking, and how Hilda makes many of her own accessories.

The biggest event was the Mock Battle between the three houses. He left with Jeralt to watch how how it went. Unsurprisingly, at least to Owain, Byleth led her class to a resounding victory. Her formations were tight, her commands were precise, and the other two teachers didn’t seem to have quite the penchant for tactics that she did. Manuela was too hasty, charging in with abandon. It was only her use of magic and Dorothea’s assistance that let her almost take Hilda out of the fight. But Claude, Marianne, and Hilda herself managed to counter and defeat the Eagles. Hanneman, on the other hand, was too passive. He let Dimitri command his troops while the professor stood back and watched. His house was defeated quickly, and all alone, he didn’t put up much of a fight.

After two weeks into the new month, the three houses were sent away to train against Knights of Seiros recruits. When Rhea was leading a service in the cathedral, Owain was approached by Seteth.

\---

"Ah, you're here. Please, take a seat," Seteth said. "Now tell me, who, precisely, are you looking for?"

"My sister, Morgan. Do you need me to describe her?"

"I shouldn't. The records from the last ten years are quite accurate, so if she did visit then we should find her."

A few minutes passed as Seteth browsed the book silently.

"I am not seeing a 'Morgan Dark' at any point, so perhaps it would be better if you did give a description."

"O-oh, I'm sorry. The whole 'Dark' thing is just for show. My last name is actually Reflet."

"So you lied to us. Be grateful we are still willing to help you. Now is when you should describe your sister." Seteth gave him an accusative glare, no longer hiding his displeasure of Owain.

"Right. Morgan comes up to about my shoulders. She is a skilled magic user and above average sword fighter. Her hair is somewhere between mine and the Prince's in color, and is very similar to Bernadetta's in style."

"And around when do you think she could have been here?"

And there it was. The question that would reveal his true nature. He had managed to go only a week before being outed. Preparing for the worst, Owain started -

And was promptly interrupted as Ignatz rushed in, “Seteth, come quick! Leonie was badly injured and needs a healer!” While the aide processed what was said, the tactician bolted from his seat and rushed out of the audience chamber. He saw Raphael and, surprisingly, Hilda carrying the short-haired girl to the healer’s room with ease as Marianne continually tried and failed to cast healing spells while heavily sobbing. Owain began feeling for the magical stone he had taken off a Mend staff before remembering he had left it in his room for the day.

“Ignatz, go into my room and bring the Green orb on my desk. Marianne, stop trying to cast spells, you are too exhausted. You two, set her on the bed and fetch water and towels.” Marianne nodded and meandered after Ignatz, who sprinted down the stairs. Her cries could be heard all the way down.

The two carrying students placed Leonie down gently, and Owain could fully address her injury. It was a brutal spear wound to the left shoulder, puncturing all the way through to her back, as well as a number of lesser scrapes and cuts. Her school uniform was completely bloodstained, and she was still bleeding, one of her major arteries severed. The impromptu healer cut off the right sleeve and took a towel from somewhere to soak up the blood. He sensed a number of fellow students waiting at the door, watching him work. Seteth might have made noises of objection, but Owain ignored all sounds around him.

He was never very good at staffless healing in truth. His mother was one of the greatest staff users of her generation, and so he had no reason to learn any other way. But, as someone who did specialize in dark magic, he knew the Nosferatu spell intricately. This, mixed with his own endeavors into spell creation, allowed him to cast a very basic life transferrence spell, similar to the Dawn Maiden’s Sacrifice spell. He grabbed the tome from his shirt’s folds and began the spell. Some of the students gasped, others shouted, not knowing what he was doing, but in short order a dark mass of Owain’s life force floated through the air and began its work, healing her to a smaller extent. 

He recast this a number of times, each time wiping some more blood away. By the time Ignatz, panting, returned with his Mend orb, the healer was drained and close to unconsciousness himself. With the orb in hand, he finished his work, knitting the poor girl’s muscle back together. After the second casting of Mend, her skin was close to flawless once more. A small cut was all that remained from the wound, something one more spell could resolve. He made to finish the job when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Turning around, the Archbishop had appeared and was casting her own spell. At first it seemed like she was going to simply Heal or Recover Leonie, but as Owain felt his own internal wounds healed, he realized she was casting the Fortify spell.

The students looked at him and Rhea, waiting for some kind of judgment.

“Ha- Leonie is gon-gonna be fine.”

They cheered. Owain leaned against the windowsill and watched as the students flooded in to surround their friend.

As he left, Seteth and Rhea shared a look, knowing they had much to speak of with their new resident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't targeted at Leonie, but I needed someone to take a hit. Hilda and Raph are the strongest so they had to carry the injured person, Ignatz is the runner, Marianne needs less trauma, not more, and I have other plans for the rest. So, Leonie it was.
> 
> Also, this is the very beginning of the students, Seteth, and the church changing their opinion about Owain.
> 
> And don't worry, Owain is going to start pulling his weight soon.


	5. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After healing Leonie, Owain is further scrutinized. Seteth and Rhea hatch a plan to find his true intentions.

After a nap, Owain woke to the setting sun. He slowly made his way out of his room and down the corridor. His stomach was a growling pit, obviously angry that he hadn’t eaten in more than 12 hours. He eventually made it to the dining hall, unaware to the stares he received. 

Students and knights alike whispered at his sight. Rumors travelled quickly that the mysterious foreigner managed to heal a student on the brink of death using a strange, unknown spell and an equally ambiguous orb. Most didn’t even know he was able to use magic, let alone something completely unknown to the church.

He was the only one in line to get food once he was in the dining hall, most others had already eaten and now only knights and the professors could order food. The cook made an exception when she saw him; the dining hall was a perfect place to pick up gossip. He took his meal, a simple pasta dish, and sat down, not noticing the figures approaching him.

“Hey, Owain. Glad to see you’re up, kid,” The deep voice of Jeralt resonated down the stones. 

“Ah, Sir Blade Breaker! To what do I owe this honor?” He turned in his seat, seeing the paladin joined by Byleth and Manuela.

“Well, you saved my only apprentice, so there’s that. Seems like you have a penchant for that kind of thing, I guess. First the princess, now Leonie.”

“It seems that I will be showered with thanks once more. Mayhaps I should avoid the Golden Deer house for a short time. . .”

“Don’t. Leonie wants to pay you back somehow, and Marianne is determined to make you teach her how to heal wounds like you did. Everyone else is likely going to thank you whether you want it or not. Me included; thanks.” Byleth deadpanned (though, could it be called a deadpan if she always spoke like that?) at him. Others would think she was ungrateful, but Owain had started picking up on her very subtle tells at emotion.

“And, if I say so myself, you did an expert job, despite your. . . different magic.” Manuela interjected, looking for the first time very genuine. “I am sorry that I couldn’t be there to help her myself. Truthfully, this situation is making me rethink my status as a professor.”

Owain responded, “Don’t be so upset with yourself. Your class was in the mountains today, correct? Much more difficult road, if I remember. If someone was injured there in the same way, they wouldn’t be able to get back to the monastery nearly as quickly and all the healing in the world couldn’t help them.” He turned to Byleth, “And tell Marianne that she shouldn’t blame herself. I am guessing she cast every healing spell she had before Leonie became injured? Trying to overextend oneself in such a way will only result in two students in the infirmary.” He finished with Jeralt, “Though I fully expect that knight is going to be reprimanded, correct? It takes immense power to deal that amount of damage. Given that this was a training drill, I can’t imagine that it was a last-ditch effort. I want you all to know that, had the strike been much lower, that lance would have gone through Leonie’s heart.”

With the last statement, Owain began eating in earnest, leaving the remaining three to contemplate what had been said.

\---

_Several hours before:_

Byleth entered the audience chamber where Manuela, Rhea, and Seteth were already waiting. She was likely about to get interrogated for her student’s condition. 

“Professor, please explain to us what happened.”

“I took Hilda, Lorenz, and Lysithea through the forest to draw away a number of soldiers and swordsmen. Claude wanted to learn better leadership, so I left the rest of the students under his command.”

“So you are blaming your student now? I knew it was a mistake trusting you with this-” Seteth was cut off by Byleth continuing.

“We reunited with each other after defeating about 6 each. Marianne was healing Raphael who had been bashed by a shield. He has a talent for gauntlets, so he gets too close. We were preparing to move forward when some knights rushed us through the woods. Leonie moved to engage them and protect Marianne. They surrounded her, and after defeating two, the final got a lucky- or unlucky- strike that cut all the way through her. Then he attacked her again. After that, we called the match, Hilda and Raphael picked her up, and Marianne used her last spell to mend the second wound. We rode as fast as possible back to the monastery.”

“Hmm. Yes, that knight must be punished. He has rose his sword against a servant of the goddess. Thank you, dear Byleth,” Rhea turned to Manuela, “And the student? How is she?”

The physician spoke up, looking distressed by what she had heard, “She is doing well. Not even a scar. Your grace is as excellent a healer as ever. She could possibly start training again tomorrow, but I doubt she will be awake until midweek.”

“Manuela, I was not the one to heal her. It was our far-flung guest.”

Manuela looked shocked, maybe even scared. Rhea continued unabated, “Seteth and I must discuss his place at the monastery. Thank you both, professors. Let us pray that such an event is never repeated.” She and her aide left the audience chamber to climb to the third floor of the building.

\---

“I am telling you, he is a liability! That was dark magic he used to heal the Pinelli girl. What if he is an -”

“I will not hear it, Seteth. Had he been here to harm us, he would not have healed her to the point of falling over! And if White magic can be used offensively, it stands to reason that Black and, yes, even Dark magic, can be used for healing. Especially when we have someone who uses spell tomes like he does. The Magvelians do much the same thing, or did yo-”

“Don’t start with Magvel again. Just because your-your _ boy toy _ was from that backwat-”

“You just didn’t like Morva because he doesn’t hate humans.”

“Whatever. As I was saying, Owains story about a king blessing him so he could learn our language? Complete nonsense. Either our magic is so far beneath that of others that we could be annihilated with a snap, he found a dragon with incredibly odd powers, or he is a liar sent to spy on us. I try to see the best in people, Rhea, but-”

“When have you ever done that, Seteth? Family does not count, and if I remember correctly, you first thought your wife had turned traitor and was trying to poison you. We must have fai-”

“Do not dare give me that excuse. It may work for many, but I have known you for too long to accept that.”

The two took a pause in their argument. Thankfully the Archbishop’s room was far enough away from everyone so that they could not be heard below, but they were still rising in volume. They would get nowhere from here without conceding something to the other; Rhea was an optimist and Seteth a pessimist.

“I suppose higher scrutiny for him would not harm us. We _ are _ only working off of one month of interaction. Still, I will not evict him without good cause.” The archbishop said

“That is. . . acceptable. It seems that a number of students want to learn some spell from him. I will see if he will give a seminar in a few weeks, and I will go myself.”

“No, I will go. A non-magical fighter like you would attract too much attention. I will go.”

“I refuse. You are too valuable. If his goal is to get you in a situation where you can be killed, then would be the perfect time.”

“Who, then?”

A knock came from the heavy door, then some muffled speaking. The door was opened, revealing two short figures: Cyril and Flayn.

Rhea looked to Seteth and he looked back. He was going to hate this plan, but he knew he was about to be outvoted.

“Oh, Cyril, Flayn. Would you two mind doing me a favor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for Owain to teach students? That will be the next chapter. I realized as i wrote the chapters that i didn't have nearly enough Byleth in it. So the middle segment was added over the weekend.
> 
> Also i did a bit of housekeeping on the Chapter Summary and Story Tags.
> 
> Enjoy.


	6. Professor Reflet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain gives his first ever seminar: teaching students how to cast a spell he made.

When he woke up the next day, Owain learned that he was to prepare a seminar for the next week. He was allowed to choose the subject, but it was expected of him to teach about the magics he had mentioned. He grabbed breakfast from the dining hall (where he was ambushed by Golden Deer and thanked relentlessly), and returned to his dorm. He sat down at the desk and began his planning.

Throughout the week, a number of students would knock on his door to tell him their intent to attend his class. From the Eagles, Dorothea, Hubert, Linhardt, and even Edelgard. From the Lions, Annette, Felix, and Mercedes. From the Deer, Lysithea, Marianne, and Leonie. Byleth was also attending, and apparently Rhea’s errand boy Cyril and even Flayn would join in as well. It was quite surprising. Fodlan in general was quite xenophobic, but maybe his actions the previous day had done something to change that for the students.

To make the best impression, Owain brushed up on his most impressive and flashy spells. The first would be one he learned from Corrin, a spell traditional to Valla. Next, he remastered his Summon Shadowblade spell, the first he ever created. Given what happened with Leonie, he figured he should both polish his skills with Nosferatu as well as the specifics of spell alteration. Lastly, he practiced Tomeless magic so he could better convey his message in a way that these students were used to. He was no expert, and he would never use it on the battlefield in this state, but it would make do on such short notice.

In a flash, the week was consumed by training with Jeritza and planning his seminar.

\---

When the students (and Byleth, Flayn, and Cyril) filed into the classroom, they noticed that, one, this seminar was a particularly crowded one, and two, that Owain wasn’t there yet. 

“Do you think he slept in?” A still tired Linhardt asked.

“No, there’s already some of his handwriting on the chalkboard, so he was here already,” Lysithea replied.

“I can’t stand people being late. If he isn’t here then I’m just going to go do some more chores,” Cyril said to no one in particular. Flayn giggled beside him.

“He will be here, don’t worry. The description of his seminar changed multiple times throughout the week,” Byleth assured.

But, as time dragged on, no more footsteps approached the door. When the bell echoed through the monastery, just about everyone was dejected. As they started getting up to leave, they heard a voice ask, “Now, where are you all going? My lesson has just begun!”

They turned to try and locate where Owain’s voice came from, only to hear, once more, “Sit down, please.” Obeying his order, their heads still whipped around the classroom. Lysithea and Linhardt were hypervigilant, wondering if somehow a ghost had invaded the classroom.

But then, with a snap of his fingers, Owain appeared behind the desk, holding a small bound journal.

“Huh? How did you do that?” Dorothea asked.

“Ah, that is an epic tale for another day. You came here to learn some of the unique spells I have learned in my travels, no?”

“Oh, this is a magic class? I thought you were teaching us about swords. What a waste of time,” Felix grumbled as the rest of the class grew more interested. Annette hit him on his arm and returned to watch Owain.

He started by going through the steps to cast his spell. First, one must gather dark magic in the palm of their hand. Then, they form it into the correct shape. Annette was very excited when she learned that it could be made into an Axe instead of just a sword. The last two steps were harder; most spells stayed around for only seconds, but this one needed to be sustained for longer. He taught the class his method of pulsing magic with his own heartbeat as a timer, something he had learned from his father. Finally, the spell needed to be wielded by the caster, so the handle, while still magical, needed to not deal damage, while the blade itself did.

All in all, it took 6 hours to teach, with a lunch break within. Most of the mages managed to get the spell just after lunch, while those with less experience took the full time. Lysithea was the fastest, being the only to completely learn the spell before lunch, while Leonie was the slowest and wouldn’t be able to use the spell in combat just yet. With only 1 hour left of the seminar, Owain decided to allow the students to ask questions of him, or leave early if they wanted. Felix, despite his continuous grumbling, didn’t leave. In fact, the only person who did was Hubert, who, despite showing interest and excelling at the lesson, acted like the entire seminar was beneath him.

The first question, after Hubert strode out, came from Mercedes, “Professor, if you are so good at magic, why bother with swords? Or, I suppose the same question could be asked in reverse. . .”

“It could be, and I will answer both. My mother was a masterful spellcaster, and an even better healer. Spellcraft came naturally to me. But, well,” He trailed off, almost embarrassed to say, “I always admired the legends of swordmasters. My uncle was known for being as such, and my father often knitted swordplay and sorcery together in combat. There is a practical reason, of course. A swordmaster against an armored knight is ineffective, similar to a spellcaster against a pegasus rider. Being able to switch between the two can be essential.”

The next person, Linhardt, asked his question, “Where did you learn this spell?”

“Oh, I thought I had made it obvious before. I created the spell,” he said with a shrug. Apparently, that caught their attention.

“You  _ made _ that spell? How? When? I didn’t even know that was  _ possible _ ” Annette half-shouted. The rest of the group did start looking at Owain differently now. Creating spells was a complex and difficult process, and most of the times it ended in disaster or disappointment.

“Yes, very carefully, a number of years ago, and of course it is possible,” He vaguely answered in order. 

The remainder of the hour was a mix of questions, mostly about the process of spell creation, some about the finer details of the Shadowblade spell. Edelgard asked if it was possible to make one that could be thrown, which Owain confirmed, only to tell her that she would be better off simply learning more basic magic for such an attack.

One after the other, most of the students left. Cyril closely followed Flayn, impatiently waiting for her, likely on some order from Seteth. At the end, only Marianne, Lysithea, and Edelgard remained. To Owain’s surprise, it was Marianne who approached him first.

“Umm, Mister Owain. Could you, maybe, teach me how to be a better healer? I don’t want to be the cause of something like Leonie again. . .”

“Marianne, I want you first to understand that just because you couldn’t heal Leonie then does not mean you caused her that pain. It was whatever recruit that created that wound who caused it. But, if you want, I can teach you how to use a staff for healing. They take much less energy, though they do require you to keep the staff nearby.”

“Yes, that, um, sounds good. Thank you, Professor,” She mumbled, then quickly fled the classroom.

And then there were three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all that much to say about this one. Owain will give more seminars as time goes on. Not all of them will be gone over in too much detail though.
> 
> Fun fact, however. I've been numbering about half of this story wrong (my end only). I skipped over chapter 6 and this one was numbered as 7. 
> 
> Anyways, see you Monday


	7. Scars of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio with White Hair reveal to each other their dark pasts. What waves will this create for the continent?

Only the three white-haired members of the church remained. Edelgard said, her voice wavering for the first time, “Perhaps we should speak somewhere more privately, Professor?”

“I am not sure if i can be called a Professor after a single seminar,” He said, moving to close the door, “But anywhere can be private with the correct spell. Do you know one, Lysithea?”

“No, Professor,” She insisted. After lunch, a number of the students began calling him professor, much to his chagrin. Though, Owain didn’t sound great either. Maybe it would be better to just tell them to call him by his last name or something.

“Very well. I cannot teach you this next one, as even I don’t fully understand it.  ** _Anankos_ ** .” His voice echoed through the room, and a veil of magic appeared. “Within this ring we should be able to have some privacy. What is it you two wanted to discuss?”

They looked to each other, both nervous. Edelgard began, “Where did you get your hair color?”

A cryptic question, but perhaps it was more relevant than he thought. “It is inherited. My. . . family line has a very dark past, and my hair color is just the most apparent scar.”

“Please, Professor, we must know what kind of past. Someone of your power could help us put an end to our suffering.”

“Very well,” Their desperate looks more than anything convinced him to tell them. “Though, I suspect I don’t have the answer you are looking for.”

“I was born in a desert nation, Plegia. There, a dragon named Grima was the primary god, though only because most people didn’t believe in anything. The capital city was built within a ribcage said to be his own. But there is a problem with worshipping a dead god: there are those who want to bring him back.” He gave a brief pause. The two looked intrigued but frustrated; he didn’t say what they wanted. Nevertheless, he continued, “My grandfather was one of those people. While warlords, pirates, and assassins took the crown from each other, he decided to unite all the cultists and zealots of the Grimleal under one banner. It should have been an impossible task, but he had one secret weapon. Generations of selective breeding created the perfect vessel for the Fell Dragon.” 

“W-who was th-that?” Lysithea asked. Talk of something dead coming back must have triggered her fear of ghosts.

“My father, Robin.”

“Is. . . that it?” Edelgard said. It seemed something of an anticlimax. Wasn’t there supposed to be a big battle? Some epic confrontation?

“Yep! Not nearly as exciting with me not being the centerpiece, huh? Anyways, some of the tribes of Plegia have white hair, and generations of being pureblooded Plegian resulted in my coloration.”

“C’mon, finish the story! What happened with your dad? What does this mean to you? There must be more!” Lysithea was swept up in the story, much like the bedtime stories her parents told to her and her siblings long ago.

“There is. But, I don’t suppose either of you are going to tell me your stories either. So, until you trust me with those, I will not trust you with mine. This also means, however, that I will not pry. Now then, I heard they were serving Saghert and Cream today!” Owain walked away, ready to dispel the Silent Dragon’s spell.

“Wait.” He did. Turning around, he saw the two even more desperate than before. Edelgard was the one to speak up, “I- I will start. Take a seat, please. Where to start?”

“I suppose when I was younger. I spent a number of years in Fhirdiad with Dimitri. My mother was invited by King Lambert- I think they attended the academy together- and they were wed. But, upon returning to Enbarr, I was captured by a clandestine group. I-I wasn’t always the heir to the empire. I had 11 siblings at one point. . .”

Lysithea cringed away from the words, as if they pained her. Owain himself was not unaffected, though he had much more experience hiding it.

“A group of dark mages have a stranglehold on the empire’s nobility, so it was easy for them to force my- our father into this. One by one, they experimented on us, and one by one, every one of us died.

“Every one. Except me. I was a successful subject. I have. . . two crests.”

“I suppose that is not natural? I had always assumed that crests were similar to. . . Never mind. I am so sorry that such an event was thrust upon you.” Owain cut himself off, but the other two heard. Lysithea began her story nevertheless.

“It was much the same for me, but with other circumstances. House Hrym and my family attempted to expand the Alliance to include Hrym territories, and my family was forced to accept much the same dark mages after it failed. I was lucky, I suppose. There were only 4 of us.”

The two looked so sad, so vulnerable. Owain had been through hell himself, but it was a very different kind. However twisted he was, the body of his father always protected him.

“Well, I am sorry for forcing you to relive that. It could not have been easy.”

“We cannot change the past,” Edelgard said, unaware that Owain had done just that. “But now it is your turn. Tell us the epic conclusion to your origin story! You must be good at it with all your theatrics.” She gave a weak smile, and Lysithea’s frown was lessening ever so slightly.

“Hah, yes. I must keep my end of the bargain. Well. . . the Grimleal succeeded.”

“WHAT?!” Both shouted, the dampening effect of Anankos’s spell causing an odd silence.

“But, if they succeeded, then how are you here?”

“Patience, princess, I was getting there. Anyways, my father became an avatar of destruction, but in his mind he was still fighting Grima off. I am told that no one even knew they succeeded until almost a year after my- after Morgan was born. I was a child and everyone thought that all was well. Then, Grima won. The man I knew was gone, his body puppeted by a vengeful dragon. Within a year, the Exalt - you would call him a king or emperor - was killed, as were most of his elite troops, the shepherds my father once commanded. I was whisked away to Plegia and raised by him, alongside Morgan. We were the backups, incase Grima fell. I learned the sword from masters, my sister learned magic. If I never left, I would almost call it idyllic.”

“Then what happened?” It was with grim fascination that each of the three listened to each other’s stories.

“Something terrible. It was a sacrifice, but I had seen thousands. It was  _ who _ was being sacrificed. After that, Morgan and I simply couldn’t stay. We fled to-”

“Wait wait wait, who was it?” Lysithea asked.

“It, erm. It, I. Uh.” He took a breath and calmed himself. He had never forgiven himself for failing this way. “Part of the reason I am so intent on protecting Morgan is because I have already lost all the rest of my family. My father to Grima, my mother to one of his plagues. . . and my brother Marc was sacrificed. Morgan’s twin brother.”

The other two looked sympathetic, but how could Owain accept pity or condolences? These girls had been experimented on as children, lost multiple siblings each when they were too young and powerless to save them. Owain, by contrast, lost a single brother when there was a chance he could have done something.

“With Marc dead, we fled to Ylisse, and met up with the remains of the Exalted military, as well as a general from across the sea. For three long years we fought tooth and nail. One of Grima’s more deadly abilities is that he can revive the dead, so any soldier that falls becomes an enemy. Eventually, we met with the goddess of Ylisse, Naga, and were able to weaken Grima.”

“But not kill him?” Edelgard looked almost disappointed.

“No. Only Grima has the power to destroy itself, according to Naga. They are both from the Divine Dragon tribe of old, so she would know. Neither Morgan nor I could destroy him at that time, but father. . . I watched him plunge this sword into his own chest, before dissolving into dust.” He unsheathed Missiletainn, showing them the steely blade. “This is Missiletainn, a sword Grima fashioned for me out of one of his fangs. Naga made a similar blade, Falchion, and it almost slew Grima once, so he made his own version and trusted me with it. It is the only thing I have left of my father, besides Morgan.”

“Hm. It seems we all have our dark pasts. We truly did believe that you were like us, but learning your tale was enlightening. Thank you for telling it to us after knowing us for such little time.” The princess had a small smile on her face, a stark contrast to the mask of determination she otherwise maintained.

“I feel the same way. If it means anything, I will assist in hunting down these dark mages with you. I’ve already dismantled one cult, what is another?”

“It would mean the world to me- to both of us.” Lysithea added in. “And we will help you find Morgan.”

“I appreciate it,” And Owain made to leave once more. And once more, he was stopped by Edelgard’s question.

“One final question, Owain. It is said that those closely related to the goddess were given crests. I know you don’t have a crest, but-”

“Holy blood. That is what it is called in Ylisse. I have Major Grima holy blood coursing through my veins. It is what allows me to cast dark and thunder magic so effortlessly. Otherwise I likely never would have been able to reverse the Nosferatu spell I used to heal Leonie.”

With that, he finally dropped the privacy spell and left the classroom. The colors of sunset poured through the windows as the three went their separate ways, new revelations churning in their minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest. There have been a half dozen times I wanted Owain's backstory to come out throughout this story, but i have cut all of them except for this. I hope you enjoy it, this took a lot of rewriting. 
> 
> Also, i'd like to thank everyone who reads, Kudos's, and especially comments. I really appreciate it.


	8. Ginger and Bergamot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Students have their first missions and Sylvain asks Edelgard on a date.

“So, Seteth, what do we say when we find out we are wrong?”

“. . .I’m sorry, Rhea. I was only looking out for the students.”

“Oh no, none of that. You don’t get to hide behind the safety of the students every time it becomes apparent that you were cautious to the point of paranoia.”

“Fine, I was wrong. Though now I suppose we must give him a stipend of some sort as he is an employee. Perhaps we can assign him more Seminars? His ability with magic is something to be admired.”

“How quickly you change your tune. I agree though. Cyril seems to be interested in magic at the moment, and he never was before. I saw him casting the spell on the Star Terrace, in fact.”

“I will have to ask Flayn how she thought it went. The students seem happy as well. And did you hear that he made that spell? Such skill in someone so young.”

“I have a suspicion that he may not be quite as young as he appears.”

“Oh? It’s a suspicion this time, not faith? Shall I mark the calendars?”

“Sarcasm is such a rare look on you Seteth, I didn’t know you capable. But no. Its the sword he carries. I have never seen it unsheathed, but when he was in my audience chamber, I could swear I smelled dragon from it. Perhaps it is a relic, or perhaps he hides more than skill underneath that odd robe of his.”

“Isn’t it a shirt?”

“It’s just one long piece of fabric with sleeves sewn on, its a robe.”

“Your clothing is more than simply a single strip of fabric, and yours are definitely robes”

“Yes, but there is a wider definition than simply-”

The two ancient companions bickered back and forth as they often do, and not too far away, Kostas slept for the last time.

\---

When the Golden Deer returned, most of them had blood splattered on their clothing. Still, they seemed mostly in good spirits. They had a victory feast, which meant they all ate together in the dining hall. The other two houses were still out on their own missions. Hanneman took the Blue Lions to defend the constantly threatened house Galatea from bandits, and was scheduled to return the next day. Manuela was guiding the Eagles to the coast within Hrym territory to get rid of some Morfis pirates. She would take a couple more days, as they needed to cross the great bridge and move carefully through the unstable eastern edge of the empire.

Sylvain’s birthday came, and he used it to flirt with just about every girl who wished him well. Including Byleth. Owain felt nostalgic, seeing a redheaded clone of his best friend. He was pretty universally rejected by the primary students, but a number of the nobles from smaller houses or wealthy commoners accepted. Surprisingly, Edelgard herself accepted. Not even Sylvain expected that, and so that was the gossip which enveloped the monastery. It seemed the birthday boy was going to take this one seriously, and it would be interesting to watch (which Owain would definitely do while invisible).

There were many thankful for this event as Lord Lonato Rowe was preparing to march against Garreg Mach, casting a shadow over both the Golden Deer, who were charged with putting him down, and the Blue Lions, who struggled with one of the most loyal knights of their homeland suddenly rebelling.

That weekend, on Saturday, Owain cast the spell that allowed Vallan soldiers to turn invisible and watched from the hedges as Sylvain and Edelgard had a (sickeningly sweet) tea date.

“Ah, Princess! I hope you enjoy Bergamot and ginger cookies!”

“In fact, it is my favorite tea. Thank you, Sir Gautier.”

There was a small back-and-forth where the two complimented each other. Nearby, Hubert and Ferdinand watched together, and Ingrid and Felix did the same from the opposite side of the hedge. None of them were all too stealthy, and they were each caught numerous times by the possibly developing couple.

“Tell me, Sylvain, what do you think about Crests?”

“Ugh, how long do you have? They’re a waste of time if you ask me. Far too over-valued, especially in Faerghus. Ingrid has three brothers, each of whom is a model knight, and each of whom was passed over to be named heir all because they didn’t have a crest. Nothing against her, of course, she is a great knight too, but doesn’t that seem ridiculous?”

Edelgard seemed pleased at his response, “Yes, it does. I must agree with your sentiment. Crests served their purpose, but now they are simply scars left over from a barbaric age. Though I suppose I am lucky to have been born in Adrestia and with a crest. I cannot imagine the plight of what her brothers went through. Or. . . what happened to your brother.”

“Yeah. Miklan. I didn’t know that gossip could cross continents, but I suppose the blow-up was pretty major.”

“It’s not that it crossed continents. I researched all of those in my year as much as I could before coming here, especially potential suitors. He was relevant information to you.”

“Oh.”

The two went quiet at that. Hubert looked like he was going to step in when Sylvain reignited the conversation.

“So, you think of me as a potential suitor?” He said with a wink (and a slight blush).

“Yes, I do. You asked me to tea, you are of noble birth, and it would be politically advantageous for both of our houses. More than that, though. . .” It was the princess’s turn to blush, as she turned and mumbled a few words. Owain couldn’t read her lips from the angle, and it seemed too quiet for even Sylvain to hear.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, Edelgard?”

“. . .I like tall guys. . .”

Silence reigned for a beat before Sylvain bellowed out laughter.

“Hahaha! Oh, ha, I’m sorry, but I just wasn’t expecting- ha- that.”

“Hmph. Is it truly so funny? Just because I am a princess doesn’t mean I don’t have preferences!”

“No, it’s not that. Most girls don’t even tell me their preferences, so hearing it from you of all people was a shock.”

“Oh, I suppose that is true.”

They made idle chatter for a few more minutes before they parted ways. Sylvain made for the training grounds, while Edelgard’s course was to the classrooms.

“I really enjoyed this, Edelgard. We should do this again sometimes.”

“If we are to do so, call me El. I insist.”

“Very well then, El. I hope you had as much fun as I did. Felix, Ingrid! Let’s go rescue Dedue from the prince, eh?!”

The two in question tripped on their way out of the bushes, blushing in embarrassment that they were caught. Ingrid stuttered that they weren’t spying on him, simply passing, while Felix turned his nose up with indignation. They followed their friend nonetheless.

“You two mind as well follow me if you have nothing better to do today. Come, I know neither of you have finished your analysis on our last battle.” Edelgard commanded to her two onlookers. Hubert was displeased that he was seen, while Ferdinand strode proudly out, and congratulated Edelgard on how the date went.

Owain chuckled at the young love he saw before him, being the only one completely unseen throughout the date. Most of that was because of the spell, but after going back in time his father had once decided he should learn assassin’s skills to supplement his swordmaster skills. During the conflict against Grima stealth had been unimportant, but the suicide missions Prince Leo had sent him on were accomplished in large part because he could move unseen so easily (with another large part being because no one expected a dark mage to pull out a sword and cut their head off). He had never let those skills rust since.

\---

Owain found himself on his way to the training grounds. Jeritza was just starting to open up to him, and he even caught the surprisingly young man with a small smile on his face during their last spar. He passed the classrooms in the company of his own thoughts before he was snapped out of it by an escalating argument in the Black Eagles room.

“I do not have to justify myself to you Hubert. I never thought I would see the day when Ferdinand agreed with me before you.” Edelgard was nearly shouting at this point.

“My lady, I simply ask that you reconsider this. . . courting. It may distract you, and I must question your choice in partner.”

“I trust you with my life, Edie, but I trust your life with Hubie.” Dorothea said sadly. “And, to that end, Sylvain is just about the worst guy you could date. How many bastards do you think he has as of today?”

“Absolutely none.” A new voice came from beside Owain at the doorway. Ingrid’s voice. She walked in, standing at Edelgards side across from Hubert, Dorothea, and, surprisingly, Caspar. “If you’ve heard of how he is with girls, Dorothea, you should have heard about how he never goes on a second date. That isn’t something that started when he got to Garreg Mach.”

“And he is of truly Noble blood! His family is the shield against which Sreng breaks its blades, protecting the people of Fodlan.” Ferdinand interjected, and he was ignored.

The six students bickered and shouted, gaining in volume before turning to Owain as something of a tiebreaker, “Professor Reflet! You must talk some sense into them!” Each student said at the exact same time.

“Ahem, I’m not sure if I am the best person for this, but if you insist. . .” They shouted that they did. “Well, I knew a terrible flirt. He was even worse than Sylvain, believe it or not. But when he and the girl he loved started dating, all of his flirting stopped. Between now and Edelgard’s next date with him, if he keeps asking other girls out, break up with him. If not, I see no issue with you two, um, courting.”

“Very well. Hubert, I will make that concession to you, and nothing more. Do you find that acceptable.”

“I do not like it, my lady, but I will accept.” The eagles each went off to do their own thing, Hubert likely to stalk Sylvain, leaving only Owain, Edelgard, and Ingrid in the room.

“Please, Your Highness, don’t break his heart. You are the first girl in years he seems to be serious about. He may seem unfaithful on the outside, but that is only because his heart has been broken so many times.” Ingrid begged of the future emperor before leaving herself.

“Hm. I did not quite think this through, it seems. Was that story about the person true?”

“Yeah. My best friend, Inigo. He married a foreign princess, believe it or not, Azura. Sound similar?”

“Hah, yes. On a better note, did you see that you are going to be hired by the Academy to give seminars? You must have made a good impression.”

“I am? Oh. Well looks like I need to figure out how to teach.”

The two left, and Owain spent the rest of the night sparring with Jeritza before finally returning to his room, mind swirling with the nostalgia of Inigo’s failed attempts to endear himself to Azura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure what made me pair the two up, but it happened.


	9. Planning and Hymns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Owain enjoy a day together, and Owain prepares for his new job.

Owain woke to knocking at his door. He got up, made sure he had his sleepshirt on, and opened the door to find Byleth outside.

“Hello Professor. Can I do anything for you?”

“Eat breakfast with me.” It wasn’t a question, more a command, but Owain had gotten used to her curt statements over the month.

“Give me a moment to get ready,” He changed quickly, making sure there was no chance she could see his bare back, and walked with her to the dining hall.

They had a nice, light breakfast, talking about his new position. While they were eating, Seteth came up to the two of them and provided them both with their stipend for the month, then rushed away blushing. She asked about his past, he asked about hers. Neither gave anything beyond vague answers.

Then, she asked him the question: “Will you join me and my class for this month’s assignment?”

It was a difficult answer. He could probably put down the entire rebellion on his own if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to, he wanted to stay at the monastery and avoid Fodlan politics (as much as he could when he had already become something of a confidant to a future emperor). At the same time, he didn’t want to outright deny Byleth’s plea.

“I am afraid I am going to be overwhelmed with planning out my seminars. I cannot assist you this month, but perhaps next month?”

“Oh.” She seemed like someone had just told her that her pet had died. If he hadn’t grown up with Morgan, he would have caved immediately. As it was, however, he resisted.

“I am sorry. Perhaps you would like to do something more today?”

“Yes, I would. Come back to my room.”

Well, this suddenly became an interesting day.

\---

“Mmm. Tasty. . .” He was enjoying this. It had been a long time since he had been invited to a girl’s room, since Corrin had tried (and failed) to seduce him.

Thankfully, Byleth either wasn’t able or wasn’t interested in seducing him. She was, however, interested in getting his opinion on the dish she had made. Apparently she had gone through the arduous process of growing her own vegetables and spices and catching her own fish. It was a very good dish, though it could use a bit of salt.

“Thanks. No one else would accept my invitation into my room, not even Seteth. I wanted to make sure I could still cook since I haven’t had to in almost two months.” So that explains why the Archbishop’s aide looked scandalized.

“Well, I cannot say anything of how now compares to before, but it is certainly enjoyable. A pinch more salt, perhaps?”

“Thank you for that. It seems some of my students know more about you than I do. Tell me about yourself.”

And so they spent the next couple hours discussing their respective pasts. After that, she invited Owain to join her for her walk around the monastery, which he accepted. It was a very calm Sunday with the young professor. They spoke to each of the students, and even most of the faculty, including the knight Catherine, who used one of the legendary Holy Relics Owain had heard so much about. He truly regretted not being able to see it and her in action, but it must have been impressive given all the rumors he heard.

They went to the Cathedral where Rhea herself was conducting the service. Owain felt awkward. Ever since he left Plegia, he was never particularly devout, not even to Naga, who he met in person. Byleth was just as out of place, clearly having little knowledge of Fodlan’s religion. They tried to follow along, but their shared lack of knowledge turned their chanting into mumbling.

After Byleth decided to turn in for the night and finish up her plans for the upcoming week, Owain went into town and bought a whetstone, only to run into Claude as he went to the dining hall.

“Hey ‘Prof’! How was your and Teach’s date?”

“Not much of a date, but we enjoyed the day together.”

“Please Prof, everyone already knows the truth. Congrats on the score! Do you know how many of the younger students are jealous of you right now?”

“Erm, isn’t it odd for students to think that way about their teacher? And seriously, we were simply talking about your upcoming missions and what I would teach in my seminars.”

“Relax. I think this kind of gossip will do everyone some good. Everyone’s favorite professor with the mystery swordsman, are they-aren’t they? That kind of stuff gets everyone’s mind off of the fighting and killing we all need to do. By the by, I hope you are doing some physical training type stuff; never been great at memorizing incantations.” With that said, he sauntered off towards the dorms.

\---

The next day, monday, with most of the students in their classes, Owain was able to plan in peace. Doing what he did best, he planned out for multiple months so he didn’t need to work things out each new month. Over the week, he prepared more than a dozen different lessons, all focusing on his different areas of expertise.

Tactics and rallying troops, merging swordplay with magic, the advantages and disadvantages of different weapon materials, how to cast spells atop a horse, staff healing and tome magic. But the one he was most focussed on was spellcraft. That art seemed to be totally neglected in Fodlan, and Owain wanted to offer the option to the more ambitious students.

There was one last subject, but he was unsure if he would be allowed to teach it. He decided that he should start with that one first. Mind as well get it in there when Seteth was least likely to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a break chapter. I do have some actual battles planned for future chapters, but given Owain could be the Athos of this game, I'm keeping him back so that the students can get acquainted with combat.
> 
> Also, a lot of people commented about Edelgard and Sylvain's pairing, and a lot actually liked it. If enough people want it, I can add the other pairings I have planned to the tags.


	10. The Wanderer's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain teaches a controversial seminar about other nations.

It was a small group who joined his seminar that day. Claude seemed very excited, and he spoke animatedly with Petra. Sylvain and Dedue watched him carefully, flanking Dimitri. Byleth was the last “student” (could he call her that?) to walk in, blank expression as always. Owain could understand why she was called the “Ashen Demon”, though he didn’t think the Demon part was necessary.

When the bell rang, he began, “Welcome. As you know, this seminar is about faraway continents, their tactics, and-”

“Owain Reflet, stop this farce at once!” Seteth barged into the room, Flayn trailing behind him. “You think you can just come into our sacred place and we will allow you to give such blasphemous lectures? I will not stand for-”

“Seteth, you’re just on time. Sit, please, I insist. You are welcome as well, Flayn.” He went back to his lecture while Seteth got progressively redder. Flayn dragged him over to a table at the back of the room and forced him to sit. Who knew such a short girl could overpower the Wyvern Rider?

“As I was saying, the nobility and religion of other continents is an incredibly useful tool when interacting with them. Now, I have on this board seven continents I have travelled to. Which one catches your eye?”

Petra raised her hand, “I am the Tellius continent interested!” After a moment she realized her error and restated, “I am interested with the Tellius continent, apologies.” 

“Well, Tellius is a large continent with 6 major nations currently.” He drew a general map on the board, “In the northwest is Crimea, homeland of Queen Elincia the Peacemaker and the Radiant Hero Ike. East of them is Daein, a cold nation with similar weather to Faerghus, from what I have experienced of both. The Dawn Maiden Micaiah is from here. Below them is the last of the human kingdoms, Begnion. Their land was founded by two of their goddess Ashera’s chosen - Yes, Flayn?”

The young looking girl responded, “What do you mean by ‘Human Kingdoms’? Who would rule the other lands if not humans?”

“Excellent question. Does anyone here know what a Laguz is?” No one did, “A Laguz is a person, generally with some animalistic features, who can transform their body into animals. Your question Claude?” 

“Are they related to the Manaketes from legends?”

“Manakete is a kind of Laguz, like how an eagle is a kind of bird.” Looking around the class, he got a number of nods. Seteth and Flayn looked like they had just been found stealing from the cookie jar, however. If Owain didn’t have a guess as to their true identity, he would have considered it odd. As it was, he was even more sure he was correct.

“Speaking of Laguz and Manaketes, the nation of Goldoa is home to the three dragon tribes of Tellius. The Red-, White-, and Blackscale manaketes. In their human form, they have pointed ears and occasionally some tattoos along their skin. The Beast Laguz live in Gallia, and the Bird Laguz tribes live on the isle of Phoenicis. Technically there is a sovereign nation to the northeast, Hatari, but they are small and generally uninvolved in the world beyond their borders.”

“Now, Tellius has two different goddesses, Ashera and Yune. Technically they are the same goddess after she split herself in two, but they are considered different. Now- oh, yes Seteth?”

“Firstly, I must remind you that you cannot preach doctrine of any deity besides our own here. Should you do so, we will be forced to expel you from Garreg Mach. Second, why would a goddess divide herself?”

“It is generally unknown. Some say that her creations’ wars drove her to desperation, others that she simply wanted someone to talk to. Either way, there is historical evidence of the two goddesses of Tellius. While Ashera was the only deity for almost 800 years, with Yune being considered a Demon, Prince Consort Ike and the Dawn Maiden revealed that Yune was just as benevolent at Ashera. Today, or at least when I last was on the continent, both are worshipped equally given the circumstances. Hatari actually has always worshipped the original goddess, Ashunera.”

He went into their tactics for a short while. Seteth had calmed down somewhat, but still looked at Owain like he had spit in his coffee.

After answering some questions about Tellius as a whole, he moved onto Nohr, Valla, and Hoshido. While technically three separate continents, they were treated as one. Unfortunately for Owain, he wasn’t careful enough with his words when talking about Valla.

“Queen Corrin has ruled Valla for the last several thousand years. She’s also pretty nice-”

“Wait, you met her?” Sylvain interrupted.

“Erm, yes. I used to serve in an army led by her.”

“How old are you?” Now it was Byleth.

“Older than I look. My birthday is coming up next month, actually.”

“Ooh! Mine is too! I cannot wait to celebrate with you!” Flayn spoke.

“So what does she look like? Is she hot?” Sylvain asked, only to get punched in the arm by Dimitri.

“Well, uh, she’s, uhm.” Owain stuttered his answer, already too deep to just back out, “She’s not- She was easy on the eyes? I was in no position to talk to her often enough to fully form an opinion. MOVING ON!”

He managed to continue on without further issues. He spoke of Magvel, which actually had quite a bit of trade within Leicester, so many students knew something about that land. Next, he went to Jugdral, then Valm, and finally Ylisse. He spoke only in vaguity as to not reveal too much about himself. It was at the lunch break of the seminar, that it seemed many of the students had a slightly different perception on the outside world. Flayn looked like she wanted to hop on a boat right that minute, while Seteth slowly stopped speaking the name of the other continents with vitriol.

Upon returning from their lunch, the students didn’t know what Owain would talk about next. Seteth was prepared to scold him for being so vastly unprepared, but Owain knew exactly what the last four hours would involve.

“To begin this part, I want to ask each of you a question. Who has heard the tales of Elibe and the Lords of Pherae?”

Petra’s hand shot up with vigor, and Claude, Dimitri, Dedue, and the two siblings in the back all raised their hands as well.

“Well, did you know that the stories of Elibe are known the world over?”

“Surely you must jest. It cannot be possible that a tale so complex is unchanged even across the seas.” The prince said.

“It seems odd, but tales from Jugdral nearly ten-thousand years old reference exact events that happen in the story. ‘The army of Sigurd the Silver did travel with justice in their hearts. But in the desert, the King of Thracia, Narcian to the Ill-Blood’s Zephiel, hunted and slaughtered the knights of Leonster.’ That is from the Tapestry of the Silver Emperors of Jugdral, a record of the continent’s history dating back thousands of years.”

Owain waited for a moment while the students mulled that idea over. Claude got a mischievous smile on his face. Meanwhile, Sylvain and Byleth looked lost.

“For the next several hours, we will be talking about the legendary heroes from each of the continents we have spoken about before.”

And they did. Each one seemed to have their own favorite. Byleth gave a small smile as she learned about Ike, a mercenary who, over the course of a single decade, rose up and became an icon and even the Prince Consort of his homeland. Dimitri took a shine to Seigfried of Magvel, founder of Renais, while Claude preferred Alm for his uniting of his continent (and the fact that he could supposedly hit a bullseye from a kilometer away). Sylvain admired Quan while Dedue liked Lief. Petra seemingly loved all of the heroes he spoke about, but Elincia and Lyn were her favorites. While the two siblings didn’t seem overly interested in one hero or another, they at least payed attention and seemed engaged.

At the end of the seminar, everyone left. Seteth gave him a short scolding about not pulling something like that again, but all went well. One more successful class.

Maybe Owain was just really good at this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late. Been having some issues over here, but this is why I keep a buffer.
> 
> So yeah I decided to make Elibe a universal story across all the FE continents. This is mostly because i really like the Nils=Forsetti theory


	11. The Wanderer's Armory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain teaches another Seminar about weapons, and Sylvain and Edelgard have their second date during classtime.

Owain was not just really good at this.

The second week was when he decided to teach healing, and boy was there a lot of resistance. It seemed that his methods were seen as either ineffective (despite proving otherwise) or simply too alien for the student’s to change their ways. Linhardt especially didn’t listen at all, and returned to his dorm room instead of the classroom after lunch. Dorothea and Mercedes tried to do as he instructed, but were getting some pretty pathetic results. Marianne was the only one who gave it her all and grasped the concept, but this seminar was undoubtedly a flop.

He decided to push back some of his other seminars which he was less confident in. He also redoubled his effort in those to avoid a similar catastrophe.

But all around this there were two more birthdays. Lorenz, a purple-haired noble, had his birthday the previous week. Owain wasn’t too close to him, but he bought a set of Javelins for him. The boy hadn’t been to grateful, however, seemingly disinterested in anything that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. He did, however, try to copy Sylvain’s method of asking out every girl who gave him a present. Unlike Sylvain, Lorenz not only failed to attract a princess, but was unanimously rejected.

More importantly, as Owain actually liked this student, Edelgard’s birthday was the upcoming Sunday. It was also the day when Sylvain and Edelgard would have their second date. 

Which would apparently happen in his next Seminar, as well.

Despite Sylvain’s misgivings about Owain, as he  _ was _ a foreigner with unknown abilities, it seemed the two lovebirds were willing to put that aside. Why they wanted to spend Edelgard’s birthday and their date in class, Owain would never know. Then again, the last date Owain had been on was with Corrin in her treehouse (and Owain didn’t even know it was a date until halfway through), so he had no place to talk.

Maybe he should find someone while he was here.

\---

This seminar was on the advantages and disadvantages of different materials for weapons. Going into the minutia about iron, steel, silver, and other, rarer metals and materials was easily done for an avid weapon collector like Owain.

An array of different weapons sat atop the teacher’s desk in the classroom. It was enough to outfit an entire mercenary troup, albeit with wildly mismatched styles and quality. 

Sitting in the front row was Sylvain and Edelgard, the boy’s arm around her shoulders. Across the aisle sat Byleth, Jeralt, and Leonie, the last girl whipping her head between her mentor, his daughter, and Owain himself. The second row had Hubert and Felix, each looking entirely sour. The final two students were Bernadetta, to the surprise of Owain, and Dimitri, who sat in the second row looking awkwardly between the panicking girl to his left and his close friend across the room.

The bell rang for the hour’s end, and Owain stood to being his lesson. “Welcome all, today we will be discussing the advanta-” Once more, Owain was cut off. If he wasn’t so used to it from his friends, family, and allies, he would be quite annoyed by this point.

One last person walked in, slightly late. This person hadn’t come to Owain beforehand to tell him about his interest, as was typical of the students and most faculty (Jeralt hadn’t come to him personally, but Byleth relayed his interest).

“Oh. Am I too late already? Shame,” Jeritza stood at the door, not fazed by everyone’s shock at his arrival.

“No, you can still join. The seminar was just starting. Sit wherever you like,” Owain told him, catching his stride once more.

Jeritza decided to sit down right next to Bernadetta, causing the chronically shy girl to scoot away a bit before Jeritza moved over to close the distance once more.

“Alright then. If no one else will be joining us-” Owain paused and waited for the universe to throw his words into his face, but no one came. “- we can get started. Now then, who can tell me the difference between materials for weapons?”

Leonie’s hand shot up, barely beating out Dimitri, who moved with more grace. Leonie, however, didn’t wait to be called on, “Iron weapons are the most affordable, steel weapons have higher durability and higher weight, and silver weapons are the most damaging.”

Owain looked around, seeing the reactions of the students. When no one added on, he responded, “Mostly correct, though there are other materials. Bronze, for example, is nigh unbreakable because of how malleable it is, but for that same reason it cannot score truly devastating attacks, nor can it pierce through armor easily. It deals low damage for the advantage of high durability.”

“In my homeland, there were glass weapons as well, believe it or not. They were as sharp and light as silver, but chipped and broke quickly.”

“Finally, uniformly across most lands are magical weapons, often made of iron or steel with crushed arcane crystals implemented during the forging process.”

“Oh, and you also forgot Brave Swords, which are steel but forged in such a way to remove most of their weight. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what the last two of these do.”

Sylvain spoke up, “Professor, isn’t that the extent of the seminar? I mean, there isn’t much more to cover, is there?”

“Of course there is more. For one, knowing how to properly maintain your weaponry is a must, no matter what material it may be made of. But beyond that, if you know how your enemy will act, you can better defeat them. For example. . .”

“Take Alois. He is a strong knight and uses an axe. Can anyone guess what material he uses?”

Jeritza raised his hand slowly (likely because he wasn’t used to it) and responded, “Steel. He is slow to attack but can crack stone. He requires the durability to not snap his weapons in half.”

Owain smiled and nodded, “Correct. Meanwhile Shamir, when not using a Killer Bow, uses Silver weapons, and Catherine is more used to Brave Swords. Jeritza here likes the light, cheap nature of iron, while I personally far prefer magic. With all of that information, who can tell me how they would defeat one of those I listed?”

Silence took hold. Sylvain raised his hand after a long moment as if he was afraid to answer, “Erm, depending on what she used, a sturdy shield could help mitigate the damage Shamir could deal from a Killer Bow, while it is probably just better to avoid the silver. And,” he waited for someone else to raise their hand, but when no one did he continued, “Catherine would be hard to dodge all four times in a row. It’d be better to either avoid confrontation or hit her from range. Silver against Jeritza could potentially outpace him in terms of damage, or using a combat art with a steel weapon, and dodging one of your magic attacks to counter with a Javelin should do the trick. Oh, and an iron weapon against Alois can probably outspeed him to the point you can dodge and strike easily.” The boy finished with far more confidence than he started with. Edelgard stared at him proudly, while some of the other students looked on as if Sylvain had grown a second head. It seemed he was hiding some intelligence behind his airheaded attitude.

“Exactly correct. And that brings up some more kinds of weapons, correct? Weapons made specifically to counter a type of enemy,” He held up an armorslayer, “and weapons that can be thrown,” He held up a volant axe he had commissioned from the blacksmith.

Up until the lunch break, Owain went over the many different variations a weapon could have, from the Hoshidan Katanas to Ylissian superior weapons (which, when he said the name, offended the people hailing from the kingdom, as their nation prided itself on their weaponcraft). Of course, each student became acutely aware of their own favoritisms and the troubles of being predictable, and so they seemed motivated to try out different weapons.

But Owain’s favorite part of the seminar wasn’t teaching this time. It was watching Bernadetta scoot further and further down her bench over time with Jeritza following close after. The Morgan look-alike was terrified by the imposing Gerome copy. He seemed more interested in her the more she freaked out.

About halfway through his summary of Magvelian Reaver weapons the lunch bell rang. From there the day became far more interesting.

Edelgard’s Birthday was celebrated by all of the Black Eagles, Byleth, and a couple others. While a private table would be more intimate for a date, the Dining Hall didn’t have any of those. So she sat next to Owain, with Sylvain across from her next to Byleth. In between the sickly sweet talk of teenagers who just got together, they spoke to the professors a small amount.

“I am shocked you can go into such useful detail about this topic, professor. I never thought much about foreign weapon design.” Edelgard said. Owain would have responded had his mouth not been full of noodles at the moment. Sylvain took this time to interject.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve only fought against Sreng and a lot of them make weapons out of Obsidian so I kinda just assumed most weapons from outside Fodlan were pretty bad. But now I kinda want one of those Reaver weapons.”

Owain had just finished swallowing and managed to finally get a word in, “You might be surprised at just how much we can learn from those on our borders.” The red-haired teen looked disturbed by that thought.

“I. . . I guess so? Look, I have nothing against you personally, but raiders from Sreng have been trying to kill my family since Seiros walked. It’s. . . hard accepting that the people who hate you for your name may have a point about something.”

Owain responded, “As you get older, you learn to shrug off things like that. It isn’t ideal, but time dulls all those pains.”

Sylvain had distant look for most of the rest of the meal. He still responded and acted like his normal self, but he was clearly thinking heavily.

That said, he and Edelgard were still almost comically sweet. Sylvian had gotten her a bouquet of roses, a large stuffed bear, and a silk sleeping robe emblazoned with a very stylized black eagle. Edelgard’s blush grew deeper with each gift, at one point requiring prompting from Byleth to breathe. The two got desserts and fed them to each other. 

The truly interesting part was when Owain found a spoon thrust into his mouth, courtesy of Byleth. When the hall stared at the two, she realized she did something odd.

“I see men and women doing this all the time here. Is it not a custom?”

After swallowing the saghert, Owain was the first to recover, “Ahem, it is a custom for, um, lovers.” Byleth blushed while Jeralt looked like someone had just sucker punched him. As everyone dispersed from the incident, Owain noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Jeritza was sitting across from a blushing and wide-eyed Bernadetta. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the young swordsman was trying to endear himself to her. Owain would need to poke fun at him during their next spar.

Once everyone got back into the classroom, it was time to instruct once more. With his small arsenal of all kinds of weapons, he would find who was best suited to wield what, possibly discovering someone had an unknown proficiency with a particular weapon.

Byleth was the first to volunteer, and she was generally good with almost everything. After swords, she seemed to be the best with Lances, especially Axereaving lances. After she asked him the price for his weapon, he told the class that, if they wanted a weapon he had brought, he would give them the designs so they could hire the blacksmith themselves.

Next was Jeralt who still looked like a kicked puppy every time he saw Owain interact with Byleth. He was clearly an expert with lances, but it was the superior sword that resonated best with him. Leonie tried to imitate his movements to the best of her ability, but she was too inexperienced in general combat and especially with swords to mimic it completely. She was much better with the humble Steel Bow, it being able to take the strain of her ambitious attacks the best.

Hubert was passable in bows but a Slim Lance served him best. Felix was obviously an expert with swords and Owain had entirely expected a Wo Dao or Killing edge to be the best for him, only to be as surprised as everyone else in the class that he could easily use the makeshift Storm Sword Owain had jerry-rigged (It would have taken too long to forge properly, so Owain took a steel sword and smashed some arcane crystals with it until he got something resembling the desired result).

Dimitris strength was something to be admired, easily flourishing with a steel greatlance as though it was a thin javelin. He liked it quite a bit, alongside the throwing lances. Edelgard went up after him, and took quickly to the Swordreaver. Sylvain, just after her, mimicked Felix’s performance with a Flame Lance made in an equally slapdash fashion.

Lastly were Jeritza and Bernadetta. Bernie went first and was found to have a gift with brave lances before she rushed back to her seat. Jeritza walked up slowly and tried out almost every weapon before finding the right fit for him: a horseslayer lance. 

With little time left, he dismissed the class. Most of the class left to go to the sauna by the dorm rooms, and they invited him as well. After quickly changing into more appropriate clothing (though keeping a thin shirt on), Owain made his way to the large, elevated structure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes i regret being 3rd person Owain perspective, because I'd like to just follow the students around as they pair off.
> 
> This is the last chapter i had made in advance, so i need to get writing it seems.


End file.
